


Of all sad words, the saddest are these

by YourSweetNepenthe



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Feels, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Letters, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, One-Sided Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Please Don't Hate Me, Post-The Sign of Three, Sad Ending, Season/Series 03, Wedding Planning, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-16 04:26:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2255802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourSweetNepenthe/pseuds/YourSweetNepenthe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these, 'It might have been.”<br/>― John Greenleaf Whittier </p>
<p>Series 3, based around TSOT. Sherlock, John and words between them. </p>
<p>HERE BE ANGST!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of all sad words, the saddest are these

**Author's Note:**

> This was just something that popped into my head. Its not what I usually write, so bear with me here. Feedback is more than welcome! 
> 
> Unbeta'd, as I don't write often enough to have one in this fandom yet. Sorry for spelling/grammar errors!

**One week pre-wedding**

 

His hand is cramping. He's been writing names on place settings for what feels like hours. There's a small pile of named cards on one side of him, and a bigger pile of unwritten, blank cards on the other. Whatever possessed Mary to want _handwritten_ cards, he'd never understand. Probably something about it being a personal touch, or some other drivel. He's offered them Mycroft's credit card and provided a list of a dozen printers who could do a much more professional job. And he's not sure how _he_ got landed with the job anyway. If John and Mary wanted a personal touch, they should be the ones doing the... personal touching.

 

Sherlock shakes his head to clear away _those_ unwelcome thoughts and gets back to writing names.

 

**One day pre-wedding**

 

There's sheet music on the stand. It isn't finished and its driving Sherlock mad that he can't quite find the perfect way to finish it. And it has to be perfect, because its John's wedding and John deserves perfection.

 

Sherlock closes his eyes and thinks of his best friend. John is perfect. He's the best thing in Sherlock's life and it's more than he had ever hoped for, having a friend like John.

 

When Sherlock opens his eyes, the sheet music has been smudged by tears he doesn't realise he's been crying. He sighs and begins to copy it out again.

 

**The wedding day**

 

Sherlock scrawls his signature where required. He has witnessed the marriage of his best friend and signed on the dotted line to confirm it.

 

John looks happy. Mary looks happy. Sherlock looks happy too, until no one is around to see.

 

**1 day post-wedding**

 

Sherlock screws up the draft copies of his speech. With any luck, that would be the one and only time he would ever be required to write one. It had been difficult to put words to paper without coming across as a sentimental fool. And the helicopter and police backup team Lestrade had dragged into the fiasco had been distracting to say the least.

 

He picks up the next scrap of scribbled on paper and reads it back.

 

_John. John Watson. What can I say about John? Well--_

 

The paper is crumpled in his hand and he throws it in the bin. He picks up another.

 

_John,_

_Please stop this madness--_

 

It joins its fellows in the bin.

 

_John,_

_This is the hardest letter I've ever had to write._

_I love you. I think I have loved you since the day we met. I regret every day not telling you sooner. I regret that it should come to this._

 

Sherlock sets fire to it.

 

 

**1 week post-wedding**

 

Sherlock shuffles through the door on autopilot. The case had dragged on longer than he'd expected and now he was awake only due to the wonders of nicotine and the cheap coffee served in the station vending machines. He grabs the stack of mail that Mrs Hudson had set aside for him and all but drags himself up the stairs and throws himself bodily onto the sofa. His eyes drift shut and blissful sleep claims him.

 

Two much-too-short hours later, he swims lazily up to the surface of consciousness and wipes the trail of drool from his chin. He's glad no one saw that.

 

He turns his attention to the envelopes on the table. _Dear Occupier,_ Junk mail, bill, letter for John, another letter for John...

 

And a postcard.

 

The picture shows a sun-kissed beach with palm trees and clear, blue water. He turns the image over, unwilling to admit even to himself that he is excited to read what John has written. He has to swallow his bitter disappointment when Mary's neat handwriting is revealed. He reads it anyway.

 

_Hi Sherlock!_

_The weather here is lovely! I'd say 'I wish you were here', but if you were, you'd be burnt to a crisp! You're so pale..._

_Anyway, we're having a great time, the hotel is fantastic and the sea water is lovely and warm! I know, I know- you're mentally giving me a lecture on bacteria levels and drowning rates. John's bought you a present, but I'm not allowed to tell you what it is. You'll have to deduce it, or wait until we get back._

_John says: Don't update my blog, you menace!_

_Take care,_

_John and Mary xx_

 

Sherlock tucks the card away in a hiding place that not even Mycroft knows about. _'Sentiment,'_ he thinks, before shaking the thought away.

 

**2 weeks post wedding**

 

We're back in London!

 

I have a case. Your assistance would be appreciated. SH

 

I've got things to do, Sherlock.

 

Nonsense. This is important. SH

 

So is what I'm diong.

 

*doing.

 

What could possibly be more important? SH

 

Oh, I don't know... Spending time with my wife, perhaps?

 

Fine. SH

 

**1 month post-wedding**

 

John and Mary had sent out thank you notes. Apparently it was tradition, despite the fact that they had thanked him in person. Apparently, he had been informed, it was traditional for the happy couple to receive a toaster. So that's what he had bought them.

 

_Dear Sherlock,_

 

_Thank you for the thoughtful wedding gift. We will enjoy using our toaster._

 

_Best wishes,_

 

_Mr & Mrs Watson_

 

The note failed to mention the other gift of Mycroft's credit card. Well, it would be of far more use to them than a toaster could ever be.

 

**2 months post-wedding**

 

“Sherlock?” John run up the stairs, two at a time. “Sherlock? Are you there?” The door to the flat pushes open with no resistance.

 

The place is a tip. Up-ended test tubes litter the kitchen table, alongside the remains of what might once have been a lasagne, but was now little more than mould in a microwavable plastic pot. There are books scattered haphazardly over the floor, some open, some closed, some with pages torn out and torn up. Amongst the casualties is a copy of Grey's Anatomy. _His copy_ of Grey's Anatomy.

 

“You complete arse,” John mutters to Sherlock, regardless of his friends absence.

 

He stoops to pick up the ripped sheets and lets out a sigh that could give a hurricane a run for its money. Well, there's no way of fixing it, but he can always buy a new copy and transfer over a few of the more important annotations he'd made over the years.

 

He catches a brief glimpse of Sherlock's handwriting between the pages and flips back to see the helpful remarks his friend had made. What he reads makes his blood run cold.

 

_John,_

 

_This is the hardest letter I've ever had to write. This is my note. My real note, this time._

 

_I love you. I think I have loved you since the day we met. I regret every day not telling you sooner. I regret that it should come to this._

 

_Give my best to Mary and the baby._

 

_Don't miss me._

 

_SH_

 


End file.
